


Into The Light

by bravenclawesome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Canon Compliant, Death, F/M, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Heaven, Neglect, Past Child Abuse, Podfic Welcome, Requited Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravenclawesome/pseuds/bravenclawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus realised in that moment that Dumbledore's words were indeed true – this was all happening inside his head, but it was very much real...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based of Mitch Albom's book "The Five People You Meet In Heaven".

At first, he thought he had gone blind. When he opened his eyes, all was white as snow around him, stretching far and wide into a nonexistent horizon. It seemed as if he was bathed in a pool of white light, or a hazy mist that had yet to settle. The floor on which he lay was neither warm nor cold; it was merely a blank, stable surface upon which he could rest.

Normally, he would have panicked to be in such an unfamiliar place, but he was strangely calm. He was clothed in garments which were obviously not his own; a white cloak or tunic of some sort was wrapped comfortably around him, looping over his shoulder and tying loosely at the back. He did not feel compelled to find out whom this belonged to. Somehow, he already knew that he never would.

He looked over himself and was pleased to find that he had not changed much. His skin was as pale as he had always been, but then there was something different about him, a slight change; a distinct, tingling feeling. He checked his arms and gave a sharp intake of breath. His left arm was clean and completely devoid of the hatefully ugly Dark Mark that had scarred him for most of his short life. The skin was clean and pale, unblemished and soft as a newborn baby’s. He caressed it with his right hand with bated breath, then felt his neck. He noted in surprise that there were no signs of any snake bites or even blood. What had happened to him?

Before he could question any more, a figure appeared and materialized in front of him. It was a young woman, dressed in a black gown that accentuated her paleness. Her hair fell loosely about her shoulders, lank and thin, much like his, her eyes dark and downcast. He probed his memory, trying to recall who that face belonged to.

The woman looked up. “Severus?”

Severus knew that plaintive voice. He stared at her, suddenly lost in hazy memories of that voice pleading to another, the sound of her crying in anguish as that same woman before him stumbled to the floor, clutching at her face, _“Please, Tobias, you’re drunk, don’t…!”_

His thoughts clicked into place, and his mouth fell open, the words escaping them a scratchy, disbelieving whisper.

“Mother?”

Severus remembered little of her; she had not cared much for him during his growing up, constantly holed up in her room crying over her drunken husband and his alcoholic ways. Severus had not liked his father very much either, and did his best to avoid him as much as possible.

Eileen Prince stepped towards him and held her arms out, somewhat awkwardly, as she had never done this before. He had no choice but to come forward and hug her with the little affection he could muster. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he stiffened at the unfamiliarity of it all. All the while, Severus said nothing; he had never been one to talk if he had nothing to say in the first place. He had always had mixed emotions about his mother. He had been constantly angry at her during his childhood, as she had never lifted a finger to help him when his father was home. Severus remembered those dark, lonely nights when his father locked him in the cellar with nothing to sleep on except shattered glass shards, the remains of broken bottles of brandy and vodka his father downed on his daily binges. He vaguely recalled curling up to cry in his solitude, thinking that no one cared for him, and that no one ever would.

He had grown up mostly alone, and had become independent at a fairly young age. When his letter came from Hogwarts, there were no congratulatory accolades, no pats on the back, no proud expression on her face. He had assured himself that he didn’t need praise to feel confident, but he couldn’t hide that he had been disappointed by the lack of excitement shown by his family. He had gone to Diagon Alley with Lily and her parents instead to get his things, and had gone to the platform with his very silent parents. Lily’s parents were like the family he never had, but he had never let himself grow close to them. He didn’t trust adults, not after what his own parents had done to him.

Summer after summer he returned home, but he spent most of his time over at Lily’s house, especially when his father returned from another of his drinking sprees at the nearby Muggle pubs. She didn’t care that he had made friends at school, had been Sorted into Slytherin just like her, was top of his class in Potions. She didn’t know who Lily was and what she meant to him. When he joined the would-be group of Death Eaters with his Slytherin friends, she had said nothing. The pride and satisfaction he felt at the time was short-lived, as there was no one to share it with him, not even Lily, who had never approved of his group of Dark wizard friends.

When he received a letter of her death in his sixth year, he had felt no remorse, no regret for any words unsaid, nothing whatsoever. He had merely shrugged it off and continued with his life, crumpling the letter in his hands and dumping it onto the breakfast table before burning it with a simple spell. He couldn’t admit that however little she had mattered to him superficially, deep down beneath the surface, he knew he cared.

He had lived his life for attention, like most other children did before realizing that the world did not, in fact, revolve around themselves. He worked hard at school and earned perfect scores, especially in Potions where he was a constant favourite of the teacher. But his mother had not shared in his happiness. He could never gain her approval. She had slowly faded away as he grew older, and anything that had been between them had been completely severed by the time he was fourteen. 

He blamed his mother for being so weak, for marrying such a horrible man. His mother was a witch, and he knew from the yearbooks in the school library that she had been a high achiever, scoring almost perfect NEWTs across the board. What had become of her was a complete mystery. She could have defended herself easily, taking out her wand and hexing her husband if he tried to advance on her, but he could never fathom why she had never done so. Perhaps she had given up on herself. He would have cursed his own father himself, if only he could perform magic at home without the Ministry breathing down his neck.

Severus's mother released him and gazed at him with a strange smile upon her face, like she knew something he didn’t. It unsettled him a little, almost like the way he felt unnerved when his father stepped into a room, automatically making tensions run high. He made to turn away, to reject her like she did to him when she was still alive, but she said suddenly, “I should have taken more care of you… but I was too busy thinking of myself."

There was a pause in which Severus shuffled a little on his bare feet. He knew his mother had more to say, so he waited. “I was so proud of you,” she said. “I was so happy when you came home with that Slytherin tie, because I knew you had found a family who you could belong to at school. I knew you would be taken care of. And you had always done so well. I’m just sorry I didn’t talk to you about it.”

“Why are you here?” he said, the words coming out sharper than he had intended.

“I think we’re here to resolve unfinished business,” replied his mother. “Every person in this place meets five people before moving on. I am your first, am I not?”

He did not answer. “I should have helped you,” she continued. “Tobias was a horrible man, and I will never understand why I married him. I could have used my wand to banish him from our lives, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, because I was so _scared,_ Severus, we both were." 

Severus felt numb, but a part of him stirred. His mother had spoken exactly what he had wanted her to all his life. She was admitting her errors in her short life, and she knew precisely why he had never liked her or ventured to create a bond between them. Perhaps she really did care for him, even if she didn’t know how to show it. “Joining the Dark Lord had been a bad choice for you, but by the time I found out it was too late for me to say anything,” she said, almost pleading, sounding rather pathetic if not for the fact that she was speaking to him more seriously than she had ever done. “After I was gone, you continued to live under his power, and it hurt me to watch you follow such a tyrant. Thankfully you saw sense.”

So she had been watching him, all this time? His heart leapt involuntarily, and he felt closer to her, all of a sudden, closer than he had ever been. The thought of his mother, a woman who had never seemed to care about him, watching over him like some fairytale guardian angel, protecting him from above, was comforting. “It may be hard for you, Severus, but I think…” His mother hesitated. “I must ask if I can be… forgiven.”

He stared at her for a few seconds. Her expression did not change, she did not flinch in the slightest.

“Forgiven?”

For what? He had never needed her. Sure, there was a little part of him that resented her for never helping him with his pain. He had spent his childhood asking himself why. He knew from Lily that most parents protected and took care of their children, and he would never stop questioning why his parents were so different. He stopped thinking about it during his teenage years, deciding to keep those thoughts at the back of his mind where they would be kept untouched. But now, he understood.

His mother had loved him, but she did not have the power to protect him because of her weakness. The two of them combined could never have faced his monster of a father. All those nights his father tormented him, threatening him with his slurred voice and wandering about the house off-balance. His mother had always stood to the side, too afraid to speak out, too pitiful to care for her own son. The two of them had suffered together, yet had never found comfort in each other in their shared fear.

But that was so long ago. He didn’t have the heart to hate her; he couldn’t. He knew some things had to be said, and this was one of them. He never thought he would be given the chance to meet his mother again – he had never been a great believer in the afterlife – but here he was, standing here with his mother before him, asking for his forgiveness after so many years of misery and misunderstanding. Severus had imagined the things he would say to his mother if he ever saw her again. But looking at her now, asking for forgiveness - he had only one thing to say.

“I forgive you,” he said.

He suddenly felt as if a large burden had been lifted off of him, and his sight became sharper, or perhaps it was his surroundings which had a sudden burst of clarity. He felt even lighter than before, and knew that the first part of his task was complete. A part of him had left him for good, but not in a bad way, and the emotion he felt almost resembled… relief.

His mother nodded and in a sudden motion, threw her arms around him and hugged him with surprising strength. Severus felt a trickle running down the side of his neck, just below his right ear. He knew that she was crying, but before he could console her, she disappeared, leaving his arms encircling nothing but air.


	2. Inexplicable Guilt

All was quiet, and peacefully so. There was no wind whistling through the trees, the sweet twitter of birds, or the tinkling sounds of laughter as small children played together. It was pure tranquility, lying there alone with all that calm enveloping him like a sheet. Severus wondered when the next person would arrive, whoever it would be.

He thought for a moment what was happening back where he had been. Had the Dark Lord been defeated? Had the Potter boy come out victorious? Was the war going to end soon? This he knew he would never know, and he doubted he would see either of them in this curious place. He desperately wanted the war to be over, if it wasn't already, and that not too much blood had been spilled. The tyrannical wrath of the Dark Lord had taken control of them all, but together, he believed that Hogwarts would be able to fight his strength. They made up for their size with unity, and though he couldn't see them, he could imagine the faces of his colleagues and the students as they all fought for their lives against impending evil.

He suddenly felt an almost imperceptible pressure on his back, close to his right shoulder, so light and gentle it could almost have been an insect, but that couldn't be. He noticed that he had rolled onto his side, his legs slightly curled up in a foetal position. Normally, he would have jumped in fright and drawn his wand at whatever or whoever was provoking him, such was the nature of his anxious self. Years of experience had taught him that no one could be too careful, and it was better to hex first than find out who it was he was hexing beforehand, as there was always a counter-curse for the latter should he make a mistake. But he had no wand, and though he did not know who was behind him, he knew it was no one bad. For how could it be bad, when the worst was already over?

At another push by his nameless companion, he slowly got up and looked round. At first, his eyes were downcast to the ground, so he could only see that the person was dressed in long, flowing, silvery-grey robes, simple yet elegant. He didn't have to look up to know who it was. "Albus," he said shortly, in a clipped tone that sounded nothing but formal.

"Severus," said Dumbledore in greeting, a faint smile upon his wrinkled face, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Severus looked up and noticed immediately that Dumbledore's nose had been mended. Instead of being crooked and misshapen in two places along the bridge of his nose, it was a perfect, symmetrical slant. His mentor and trusted friend was standing before him, and Severus had no idea what to do or say. He was momentarily lost for words, and all he could do was stare speechlessly at the man he had worked for as a double agent for more than a decade, with dire consequences.

"Have you seen the boy?" asked Dumbledore. Severus shook his head. "Ah," said Dumbledore softly, as if he already knew the answer before he said it, the word coming out more like a whisper than a sigh, "he will be on his way soon." Severus blinked, not knowing what to do next. Even here, Albus had a commanding air, expecting others to do what he said. It was this that made made Severus trust the man so much; he  _exuded_  power. He knew Dumbledore would never betray him, and it was the same vice versa. But how would he know if the prophecy would be fulfilled?

The silence grew between them, stretching like an elastic string to the point where Severus was willing it to snap and recoil, anything to break it. "I'm sorry," he blurted out, before he could even think, shattering the silence. The phrase burst out from his lips like he had been meaning to say it all along, and he felt an instant relief from it, like he had finally let go of yet another burden he had been carrying for years. He let out an inaudible sigh.

"For what, Severus? Killing me?" Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling with a knowing gaze. Severus knew it was a rhetorical question, but nodded mutely, staring at his feet.

"But that was not your fault, Severus." He looked up in surprise, and saw that Dumbledore had tears in his eyes. "I  _ordered_ you to do so," he said softly, "It was not your choice to kill me. And  _that,_ Severus, is the difference which prevented your soul from being ripped apart."

"I'm still sorry," said Severus, a little stubbornly. He had not wanted to kill Dumbledore, after all. All those years he had avoided killing innocent Muggles and Muggleborns had to have meant something. That aside, he felt relieved that Dumbledore didn't see him as a murderer of any kind, and from that he could take comfort. "Did you feel any pain?" he asked. He knew he did – the snake bite had been a long and painful death, and he resented the Dark Lord for giving him so much agony considering that he was his most faithful Death Eater. But then, at least he had spoken to Potter before he left the mortal world. At least he had had a little time to make amends.

"None whatsoever," said Dumbledore, who was smiling once again. "Just falling, an eternity of falling through air, but… I landed safely." He took a moment to gesture at his surroundings, but as he looked around, a look of surprise registered on his face. "It looks as if you still have yet to decide what you want your surroundings to be," he remarked calmly.

Severus was confused. "Y-you can choose?" he said.

"My dear Severus, don't you remember what I've taught you all these years? You  _always_ have a choice, no matter how dire the situation. And it is these choices which make us who we are. But no matter," said Dumbledore, with a casual, dismissive wave, "you will know soon – at the latest, after you have met everyone else in your place."

Severus nodded, wondering whether Dumbledore had already met the five people he had to resolve issues with, and thought whether he was one of them. Perhaps they were merely here to fulfill each other's tasks in order to move on. He made to ask, but refrained after a moment of thought. He knew Dumbledore would only tell him half of the truth, if at all. And anyway, it would have been a rather personal question.

A part of him seemed to have mended itself from that little apology to his mentor. He was not one to apologise – the word 'sorry' had always meant so little to him, as his father had said it often during his childhood, throwing the word carelessly about as if it were a childish toy before committing what he had apologised for again the next day, to the disappointment of the rest of his family. He had learned not to trust the word if anyone said it to him. The first time he had ever sincerely apologised to someone, that someone had rejected it. Lily couldn't forgive him for what he had done, and had even given him an ultimatum – her or the Dark Lord. It had already been too late, however; by the time she had asked him, he had already gotten the Dark Mark branded on his arm, so in the end, he hadn't really hadn't had a choice at all. He had lived most of his life thinking that no matter what he said, people weren't going to see him any differently. But he had been proven wrong once again.

"Anything else?" said Dumbledore. Severus closed his eyes, sighed, and shook his head. "I never thought you would forgive me," he said. "I felt so…so  _guilty_. And everyone else thought I should be."

"You have no reason to be guilty," said Dumbledore. "Move on, Severus, move on."

And just like that, he was alone again.


	3. Unexpected Gratitude

Severus was almost used to this, having people meet him and leave him in an instant. He had much to get over with, but at this point, he was already feeling better. Somehow, he knew that he had to be pure before he could get on with whatever came next.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. He had not needed to do so since he had arrived. Somehow, the impulse to breathe had ceased, but now and then he would take a breath to stop creeping himself out. Not that he was afraid of death, but he really didn’t need to be reminded about it. 

Perhaps every person he met arrived in a different way. He could almost imagine a ball of light shining through to rouse him from his reverie, but none came. Instead, moments later, or perhaps none at all, there was a sudden change in the air. Severus suppressed a shudder as a cold wind swept through the place. The back of his neck was tingling, and he was feeling more alert than he had ever been, almost like he was a Death Eater all over again when they were patrolling Muggle houses, deciding which one to attack first. The hairs on his forearm stood up, and he could feel a cold sweat coming on, forming at his brow but disappearing before he could wipe it away. He tensed and reached for his wand, but realised what he was wearing had no pockets. He had forgotten about that, but that wasn’t the main worry he had. He was defenseless, and this made him panic slightly. Someone was there, watching him. He turned and almost fell over from shock.

A man stood before him, standing at about the same height, but Severus knew he only looked a little taller because of his dark hair, which was mussed up in that just-went-flying sort of way that had never been effective, even in his youth. The man was much younger than Severus, and had the corner of his mouth turned up into that boyish, carefree smile Severus hated so much, the look that made him feel so inferior whenever he looked at him, like he could do no wrong, like Severus would never win.

“Potter,” he said, his voice halting, careful, distrustful.

For once, James looked like he wasn’t so sure of himself. “Sniv…Snape,” he replied in greeting, nodding in acknowledgement, looking equally as wary. Severus narrowed his eyes at the slip, recalling not so fondly the memories of James taunting him. Back then, it wasn’t the name-calling which bothered him, but what happened afterwards whenever he heard it. He wanted desperately to draw his wand and hex the ungrateful bastard, but he remembered his wand was not with him, and he suspected that James was wandless too. Unless they were to engage in a childish brawl, he did not think it wise to make the first move, though he knew as a small comfort that he would come out victorious, given his age and experience. But James made no move whatsoever.

They waited. Severus thought that there must have been a mistake of some sort. Whoever controlled these meetings between two souls must have been out of his tree to think that the two of them could resolve their mutual hatred. Severus could not bring himself to even think of forgiving this man, the man who had taken his Lily away from him, despite the fact that she had hated him just as much as he did. He didn’t believe all that rubbish about him changing and deflating his head; it had only been a show for Lily, and while Potter had never hexed him again after that and left him in peace, he still wouldn’t trust him. He hated him for having a son who looked so much like him, the only trace of Lily’s presence being in his eyes. He hated having to look into the boy’s eyes to find his love once again. If Lily hadn’t married him, Severus wouldn’t have gone to become a Death Eater due to lack of choice. It was a cruel punishment that he didn’t deserve, all because of this ungrateful bastard. His miserable life was all James’ fault.

“If you think we’re here to forgive each other, think again,” he said, trying to make his voice sound as threatening as possible. “Because I’m not going to forgive you for what you did. You did not deserve her, not after being so horrible to both of us for so many years. You’ll always be an arrogant, overconfident prat who will never change his ways, and I – ” 

The words were coming to his lips like water would from a running tap, being released after decades of being bottled up inside him, almost like they required no thought at all. Words could not begin to describe what he felt at this moment; hatred and jealousy didn’t even cut it. But he was stopped short by James holding a hand up to silence him.

Severus had not meant to stop talking, but the way James had stopped him took him by surprise. James’ face looked as if it was battling with itself, trying to decide what emotion to take up before settling on something close to the poker face Severus himself wore so often. Severus knew how James felt at the moment from that one simple gesture; scared, but too much of a coward to show it, ironically enough. He looked down and noticed James’ hands were shaking and clenching uncontrollably. The man looked altogether uncomfortable, even more than he did.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” James said, emphasizing the last word with force. “I don’t think you’d ever give it to me, even if I begged on my knees.” He took a deep breath as Severus glared at him. “I came here to – to thank you.”

Severus first immediate thought was that James was referring to that Halloween night at Godric’s Hollow. A silent, inexplicable rage boiled inside him, and he cut in sharply, “I didn’t try to save you, I only did it for Lily, and Lily _alone_. You meant nothing to me.” _How dare he,_ thought Severus to himself. How dare he think that he actually cared about him after spending all those years at Hogwarts together.

Instead of looking wounded and subdued, James stared at him with a pleading gaze. Severus couldn’t quite believe it. He had expected some sort of fight to come up, perhaps a shouting match where both of them were to think quickly and act on instinct instead of reason. But none of that was happening. And for the first time, Severus had to admit that Potter actually looked like he wasn’t joking this time round.

“But you kept him alive,” said James, looking at him with his round hazel eyes, the only feature of his that hadn’t been passed on to his son. “You didn’t have to. I know you loved her, but you cared for my son too. It wasn’t just because he had her eyes, I _know_ that, Severus. And I know it’s too late, but I want to thank you for protecting him for so many years when I could do nothing but watch.”

That was the closest thing Severus had ever heard of Potter coming to a confession. He blinked in surprise. The sight of his nemesis shaking in regret before him, weak and vulnerable, satisfied him to a certain degree. What really got him, though, was the revelation that the reason why he had protected Harry was not, in fact, only because of the fact that he was Lily’s son and had her eyes. He felt he had to carry the blame for telling the Dark Lord about the prophecy, and in some twisted way, taking care of Harry was the only way he could make up for it. He couldn’t bear to see those same green eyes lose their light and become lifeless all over again; it would have been too much for him.

“You did all you could,” said James. Severus looked up at him. “You loved him like he was your own, and I am so grateful to you, for that. I can’t express it enough.” He stepped forward, and instinctively, Severus took a step back, his hand slipping into his cloak and finding nothing there. James noticed this and stopped, but not before reaching out a hand in a gesture for Severus to shake it. Severus gave him a look with narrowed eyes. Really, after all this time? When he did nothing, James looked down at his feet. 

“Please,” he said. “Lily would want you to do this.”

There it was again, thought Severus. James had always known how to lay on the guilt; he had seen it happening too often when he was conversing with his friends.

Conflicting emotions were running through Severus’ mind. _To forgive, or not to forgive?_

Would it be worth it if he did, and accepted the gratitude from his enemy? It had, after all, been a teenage grudge.

Severus decided to wait a while longer to see if James was serious, testing him to see whether he would step back with a mocking laugh and disappear before him. But after a few minutes, James was still in the same position with his hand out. Perhaps he wasn’t kidding, he realised. Perhaps he really did want to make amends.

He reached out and shook his hand, and with that, James smiled and faded away.


	4. A Turn of Events

Severus had the impression that the place he was in was timeless. Years could have gone by for all he knew, but he did not bother to try and keep track. He had been lying down on the ground for all this time in a pathetic attempt to fall asleep, only to realise he couldn’t. He didn’t need sleep in this place, after all. He resorted to staring at his unmarked arm, caressing it with his other hand and thinking about how different things would have been if he hadn’t joined the Dark Lord.

 

The wait was a lot longer than he had expected, longer than the ones between the three people he had already met. Severus began to feel a little restless, which was completely unlike him; he was normally rather patient when it came to waiting. But then, none of the waiting in his past life ever occurred in a place where there was no smells for him to detect and follow, or people to observe, or things to look at that would mildly interest him. Just whiteness.

A ball of light appeared several feet away from where he lay, shining brighter than the white that surrounded him in a way he had never thought possible. It grew brighter, almost blinding him, almost pulling him towards it. Severus knew someone was about to appear. Then all of a sudden, a shadow seemed to pass over it, and the light faded. The shadow lingered, however, and as Severus watched, it morphed into a figure of yet another person, a person who he almost thought was James again, but it couldn’t be… he saw the unmistakable flash of a lightning-bolt scar…

He could almost say that his heart skipped a beat, but since he was dead, that expression was meaningless. He could say that he gasped, but then he did not need to breathe. All he could think and feel was shock. 

After all this time, all that careful planning he had been a part of, the Dark Lord had fulfilled the prophecy and killed the boy. Until now, Severus had not thought of the burden the Potter boy would put onto the wizarding world if he died. He had always imagined him defying the prophecy and killing his enemy instead, for that had been done before, hadn’t it? Prophecies didn’t have to be fulfilled, if you made the right choices. But in the end, all his protection had been for naught. The Boy Who Lived was dead, and some sick twist of fate had made him the fourth person he had to meet.

Or was he?

Instead of materializing in a short amount of time, if there was any time at all in this strange place, the boy remained a shadow. Severus could not see his face altogether clearly, as if a half-transparent, half-opaque wall had been put between them. Instead of feeling concerned about this, he was intrigued. He decided to wait it out.

Then he heard voices, not from the direction of the boy himself, but from inside his head, almost as if he were performing Legilimency. 

_Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?_

The voice was indistinct and muffled, almost as if from another world.

Another voice, one that he recognized immediately.

_Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?_

The voices echoed within him again and again, and he looked up to see that the shadow that was Harry was fading, fading away. The boy’s figure shrank into a small circle, then a dot of gray, before disappearing entirely, like the light around him had swallowed it and pushed it out of his world. Where had he gone? 

He walked towards where the boy had disappeared, reaching out a hand to touch the air, but felt nothing. The world was still, and for the first time, Severus realised that feeling lonely was not quite the same as being alone. He began to despair. If Harry really was the fourth person he was meant to meet, and he disappeared, then did that mean he was to stay here for the rest of eternity? Was he never going to be granted the opportunity to move on at all?

He was wrong. Another shadow appeared before him, but not of a person; it elongated itself and stretched until all he could see was a pale grey instead of white, and while this unsettled him, as he had become used to his own world made of light, he made no move to stop it. The grey enveloped him and became a wavering mist, and suddenly things began to appear all around him, almost like he was in Dumbledore’s Pensieve once again, except the shapes were ghostly, unclear and not quite there. He looked up at saw the tops of tall trees, the leaves only parting slightly to allow what remained of sunlight before it turned to dusk. He was in the Forbidden Forest.

He knew he was still dead, for he could not smell anything around him. Neither could he hear anything, almost as if he had gone deaf. He also knew that no one could see him, for he was a little distance off the ground, almost as if he were floating from above and watching what was below him. He could see a collection of people in masks and recognized them instantly as his fellow Death Eaters, joined together in a tight mass of darkly clad robes, wands in hand, rushing forward to help a man rise to his knees. He saw the man look up, his mouth moving, and realised it was the Dark Lord. He looked as if he had just collapsed.

The Death Eaters backed away, all except for Bellatrix, who had detached herself from the rest of the crowd and was kneeling beside him. He saw the Dark Lord speak again, but could not make out his words. Then he jabbed his wand at Narcissa Malfoy, who jumped in fright before listening intently to the orders he was giving her. No one else moved. The woman came forward, hesitantly, as if she were counting every step she took, moving towards another fallen figure on the forest floor. _Harry._

Severus instantly understood; the Horcrux within Harry had perished, but Harry had chosen to return, and without even realizing he was doing it, Severus had followed him. Sure, he was lying on the ground, unmoving, but Severus could inexplicably tell that the boy was only feigning death; there was an aura surrounding the boy only Severus could see. The Dark Lord had killed a part of himself by killing Harry, and the only reason why Harry was still alive was because of their blood bond. He shook his head, stifling the urge to laugh, despite the fact that no one would hear him. 

Narcissa was obviously checking to see whether Harry lived. Severus had always known that Narcissa never wanted herself or Draco to be involved in the Dark Lord’s plans; she had joined only because of a lack of choice. He watched as she knelt before the boy and touched his face, before feeling his chest for a pulse. Narcissa’s back was turned to the Dark Lord in her inspection of the boy, and he saw a multitude of expressions cross her face – surprise, fear, and then…was it determination? She leant down to whisper in Harry’s ear; to the Dark Lord, it would look as if she was listening for breathing, but he saw her lips move almost imperceptibly, and Harry’s did as well, mouthing one single word. _Yes._ Narcissa rose and turned, and Severus could see exactly what she was saying, such was the clarity of her enunciation. _He is dead!_ Severus could not help but smile.

The next few minutes passed rather quickly. He watched as the Dark Lord ordered Hagrid to carry the boy and lead the way back to the castle for the rest of the school to see, saw the look of anguish appear on the survivors’ faces as they realised their hero was dead, breaking through the Silencing Charm the Dark Lord had cast to shout and scream with all their might. The Longbottom boy broke free of the crowd and charged into the invisible wall separating the Dark Lord’s supporters from the ones who were still fighting to win the lost battle. The Sorting Hat was summoned, put on Neville’s head, then the unmistakable gleam of Gryffindor’s sword flashed as it fell out of the hat and clanged upon the ground. Then the slash, the snake’s head as it flew above the crowd, the chaos that ensued as people charged over the walls to attack, and as it did, he saw Harry get up from the ground, miraculously unscathed, before throwing his Cloak over himself and disappearing from sight. 

The scene changed so Severus could follow the boy’s path, though all he could see was a glowing aura that told him exactly where the boy was. He was now in the Great Hall, and the battle had begun once more. People were throwing spells left, right and centre, the centaurs had broken in to charge at their enemies, and even the house-elves were putting up a fight, darting between legs to slash at their enemies’ ankles. He witnessed Bellatrix’s defeat at the wild hand of Molly Weasley who wanted nothing but to protect her children, and just as the Dark Lord was about to kill her too, he saw a swish of silver, and Harry was standing once again, very much alive, wand in hand. 

Suddenly, he could hear again, but not completely; the cries of the crowd who had seen their resurrected hero did not reach his ears, but he could hear Harry’s voice, clear as day. “I don’t want anyone else to try to help.” The sound of his voice was deafening amidst the total silence. “It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me.” They were circling each other now, and though he had no more blood running through his own veins, Severus felt cold as goose bumps appeared along his arms, in fear for Harry’s life, wondering which one was to die in the final confrontation. The Dark Lord sneered at the boy, twisting the wand between his fingers as if pretending that this was a childish game. But Severus knew the Dark Lord was afraid, afraid for the first time that he might have just met his match.

“Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?” said Harry, and for a moment Severus could see James in the boy again, that challenging look in his eye. “Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn’t defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?”

They continued to throw words back and forth, Harry insisting that no one else was going to die, the Dark Lord gasping in shock and fury when Harry called him by his childhood name, the jeering face of the Dark Lord as he mocked the boy, only to register shock as the boy said, “You thought you did, but you were wrong.”

Severus could see the screaming words forming on the Dark Lord’s lips, screeching _Dumbledore is dead!_

“Yes, Dumbledore’s dead,” said Harry calmly, “but you didn’t have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant.”

He knew it was coming, he could see it in those green eyes he loved so dearly, those eyes which now held fierce determination even his mother had not possessed. Harry was finally going to tell the truth, and the rest of the school would be there to see it. Normally, he would have been overjoyed at the thought of having people finally realise that he was not, in fact, on the Dark Lord’s side, that he had been pretending all along, and the act of being a true Death Eater had been nothing but an act. But now, all he could do was watch... and hope.

“Severus Snape wasn’t yours,” said Harry. “Snape was Dumbledore’s, Dumbledore’s from the moment you started hunting down my mother.” Severus could not concentrate on the boy’s words, he was looking at the faces of the people surrounding the two of them, the looks of shock and surprise. _Snape was good?_ he could almost hear them say. If only he were there, if only he hadn’t died, he could laugh at them for misunderstanding him for so long.

“Snape’s Patronus was a doe,” said Harry, “the same as my mother’s, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children.” Voldemort sneered at him, nostrils flaring, and Severus could tell he was angry beyond words. “You should have realized,” continued the boy, “he asked you to spare her life, didn’t he?”

He saw the Dark Lord’s mouth move, but he was not curious as to what he was saying; he knew the Dark Lord was refusing to believe what was obviously dawning on him, the truth of the matter, the trust he had put in the wrong man. Harry was still speaking. “…He was Dumbledore’s spy from the moment you threatened her, and he’s been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!”

Dumbledore had indeed told Harry the truth in their encounter. Dumbledore had been the first person Harry would meet, but before Severus could be his second, Harry had returned to the mortal world. Everything was coming down to this moment, the final reason why the battle had been fought for so long. Who was to live, and who was to survive? 

“But before you try to kill me, I’d advise you to think about what you’ve done…” said Harry, and Severus saw anger flash in those red eyes of his former master. “Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…It’s your one last chance… Try for some remorse…”

Harry’s sheer nerve and bravery fascinated Severus. The Dark Lord was flabbergasted. _You dare?_

“Yes, I dare,” said Harry, “because Dumbledore’s last plan hasn’t backfired on me at all. It’s backfired on you, Riddle.”

The fact that the entire school was watching this exchange between a Dark wizard and their hero was overwhelming to see. Severus’ mind was egging Harry on, and he was sure everyone else on his side was too. _Go Harry!_

“That wand still isn’t working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore.” The Dark Lord made to interrupt, but Harry cut in once again. “Aren’t you listening? _Snape never beat Dumbledore!_ Dumbledore’s death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand’s last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand’s power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!” 

There. It was coming.

“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.” 

Complete and utter shock appeared once again on the Dark Lord’s mangled features. The red slits narrowed, the mouth fell slightly apart, before being clamped shut again to reassume the look of nonchalance. There was a tension building in the air, and even Severus, from worlds away, could feel it. All eyes were on the two rivals. The end was here. It was going to happen any moment now.

“So it all comes down to this, doesn’t it?” whispered Harry. “Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does…I am the true master of the Elder Wand.”

The heavens opened to reveal a sudden burst of dazzling sunlight, the clouds parting to reveal a stunning sunrise, reducing their faces to glowing blurs. Harry shouted his trademark spell as Voldemort did the same, and then they were doing battle, holding onto their wands for dear life as their spells clashed together. The Dark Lord’s red eyes were exactly the same shade as the spell Harry had cast to get him, and the green shock of colour that was his Killing Curse was reflected in Harry’s similarly startling emerald eyes.

Then the Elder Wand was in the air, a silhouette against the blazing sunrise, spinning slowly through the air in a tantalizingly slow motion. Severus turned to watch as the rebounding curse hit its master and disappeared as it made its mark, and as Harry caught the wand which was rightfully his, the Dark Lord – no, _Riddle_ –fell and was dead before he hit the floor. Severus knew in that moment that it was all over, and that the wizarding world was safe once more.

He could not hear the cheers that erupted around Harry as he stood over his enemy, a wand in each hand, but he could feel their joy and relief, exploding from within himself as he, too, cheered for the hero who was the son of his only love.


	5. The Final Meeting

Severus didn’t have time to stay for long, and before he could watch The Boy Who Triumphed any further, everything around him dissolved into shadows once again. He did not protest; for one thing he knew he couldn’t, but he also knew that the boy was now safe, and though Hogwarts needed time to regain balance and pick up the broken pieces, the boy and his friends, along with those who had survived, were forever safe from the tyrannical reign of the Dark Lord. Lily had not died in vain.

But this time, instead of the white light Severus was used to, the world was suddenly cloaked in a startling emerald green. It swirled around him, dazzling and shimmering even when he closed his eyes, recalling memories of that particular hue, that verdant shade of blazing green. The mist settled before changing into another place, one that he did not recognize at first – a beautiful meadow covered in grass, white flowers dotting the edge of a river, a blue sky stretching into a horizon of wispy white clouds, and a large oak tree in the centre of it all, its leaves rustling in the breeze. Severus could not help but laugh. He was finally at peace, in a garden, of all places. What was so significant about this pastureland that took him here?

Then he realised. He was in the place where the magic had all begun for him, in the meadow where he had first met Lily Evans. So this was what Dumbledore had meant when he told him about deciding on his location; he had been unsure until now. He turned to the river and leaned down to smell the sweet scent of the flowers, hands caressing the water as it flowed through the gaps between his slender fingers. The air was alive with birds twittering and the sound of the water running along the river’s winding path, the wind whistling as it made its way through the leaves in the trees behind him. The smells around him were a delightful mixture of fresh dewdrops, earthy soil and plants, teasing at his senses as they enveloped him in the sweet aromas of wildlife. The sounds were like music to him, almost as if he were alive again, experiencing the wonder of nature. But there was one thing missing…

“Sev!”

It couldn’t be. Severus told himself it was wishful thinking, that she couldn’t be here, so he wouldn’t disappoint himself if it were true. But then her voice came again, echoing towards him, clear as a bell and impossible to ignore, “Sev!”

He turned and saw his first and only love peeking at him from behind the oak tree, long hair flowing in the wind, the sunlight kissing her auburn locks, complete with her smile and her sparkling eyes. And Merlin, she was as young and beautiful as he remembered her to be. She emerged from the back of the tree and ran over to him with the childish, innocent grace she had always possessed, and he ran to her too, until they collided together in the middle and fell over, still laughing with joy and the disbelief that they had met again. “Lily,” he murmured, as he held her in his arms, savouring how her name rolled easily from his tongue as if it had meant to all along. “My dear, sweet Lily.” He felt like crying then, overwhelmed with emotion, but he fought back the tears.

“Severus,” she replied, a smile gracing her lips as they embraced, her head fitting perfectly on his shoulder in a way both of them knew had never happened with James. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Severus held her by the shoulders as he looked into her searching eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for calling you…that.” She shook her head and laughed, but it was not the melodic giggle he was accustomed to; _this_ was a laugh of bitterness, one of regret.

“I was too childish to realise you never meant me any harm,” she said, leaning into him with a sorrowful gaze in her eyes. “I was unforgiving and narrow-minded; I did not care for your apologies no matter how genuine they were. I was too stupid to know I was wrong to refuse my first true friend, let alone marry the one person he hated the most. I realise now how inconsiderate I must have looked to you, but I never took the time to explain for you how much James really did love me. I do feel guilty though,” she said, ducking her head in an expression of shame. “I was stupid and I’m sorry." 

“Don’t say that,” Severus replied. “We are here now, and your son is safe.”

She smiled at him and sighed. “I am truly thankful, Severus, that I had you to protect him from harm. Without you, Voldemort would have finished him off before he had a chance.”

“Voldemort is dead,” said Severus without remorse, and she laughed and hugged him again. Her hand brushed over his left sleeve, and he let him look at the bare skin that was there, devoid of the Dark Mark that had haunted both of them for so long, and his heart warmed as she smiled again.

“I have been watching over you and my son for so long,” she said in his ear, her breath tickling his neck as she spoke, but he didn’t mind at all. “Thank you for protecting him, even though you didn’t have to. I understand it was difficult to decide how to treat him – he does look an awful lot like James.” She laughed quietly. “Harry is as brave, kind and good as I imagined he would be; he used the Resurrection Stone so I was able to meet him in the Forbidden Forest… I could express to him how proud I was and how much I love him.”

Severus began to cry in earnest; after all that had happened, all the trouble and misunderstanding he had gone through, he was safe with the woman he loved. She smiled, eyes shining too, one hand lifted to stroke his cheek and wipe away the tears escaping down his sallow cheeks. Severus closed his eyes at the simple affection she had always shown for him; her gentle hands were like the finest silk, the softest cloud, and his heart was bursting with the joy and the love he had had for so long. He had never told her that he loved her; the puppy love that turned into a childhood crush, before transitioning into a full-blown, everlasting rush of passion.

He opened his eyes to look into hers, those eyes that lived on through her son, and possibly for generations more, and said those five words he had been meaning to say all along, words spoken with a sincerity that could not have been truer.

“I love you, Lily Evans.”

She kissed him then, leaning in to cover his mouth with hers, her lips as soft as he had always imagined them to be, full of love, friendship and care. Almost instinctively, his hands wrapped around her waist and hair, holding her close; all he could feel was her and nothing else. He responded to her kiss with fervour and long-awaited passion, expressing to her the tumult of emotions he had bottled up inside him for decades, and in his heart, he knew she would understand. He realised in that moment that Dumbledore’s words were indeed true – this was all happening inside his head, but it was very much real. 

Behind them, a beacon of light appeared, spilling in from the heavens as the clouds parted from above; one by one, images of people who had died in the war materialized, all dressed in white with smiling eyes and waving hands. Severus and Lily broke apart to smile at each other, and she took him by the hand, their fingers fitting together perfectly as her lithe, slender hand matched his coarse and calloused one. He recognized several faces; those of the Order who had fought to the death, countless students whose innocent lives had been lost with a flash of green and, behind them, Albus Dumbledore, who was smiling and nodding at them all. Lily led him on towards them, and before he made that one final step into the light, he heard her say, “Welcome home, Severus.”

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net under the same username, where it can still be found.


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